


May These Be the Worst of Our Days

by mondsters



Category: Fleabag (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2020-09-24 18:21:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20362993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondsters/pseuds/mondsters
Summary: Rekindling their friendship - or any kind of relationship - proved to be more difficult than the either expected. They tiptoe around each other, showing how actions can speak volumes while words amount to more confusion between them.Set several years after the season 2 finale, how do they stay in each other's lives without stepping over boundaries again and again?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not super important, but this fic is in the same timeline as my previous fics, so I might mention some things from there. 
> 
> Please give them a read if you'd like!

It was a quiet summer’s afternoon. The sun was lazing up in the sky, hiding between clouds. It was a significantly warm day for London, giving her a chance to wear a skirt,  _ without _ her stockings (quite risque), and a tank top under her pinny. Most of the kids in town were in the pool or went to the beach, the elders were left wandering around the park to feed the ducks or play chess or whatever old people do. While she was stuck in the cafe, not that she minded, but it had been a while since she had done something fun. She missed the currency of youth and all that it had afforded her. Her metabolism wasn’t the same, and she certainly couldn’t drink as much as could when she was twenty. A shame, really. Lately, the most exciting thing she had done was fall asleep while knitting and watching a documentary about serial killers on Netflix. The events were infamous enough that it went as far as having a movie made. She didn’t care what anyone said, Zac Efron as Ted Bundy really made something stir in her. 

She had started living a very mundane life. Granted, She was already in her mid thirties, encroaching unto her  _ late _ thirties. But she didn’t really have anything to worry about. She was happy. Happier than she had been in a long time. She was content. 

Her phone vibrated, taking her away from her reverie. It was a text.

**Sexy Priest** (He had set his own contact name on her phone-- not her own doing, really.)

He had sent her a picture of Pope John Paul II holding a koala. ‘DOPE John Paul II LOL’ he had captioned with several laughing emojis succeeding it. She rolled her eyes, closed the messaging app and opened her photos. She swiped through all her pictures, some of which were of them together, some of Claire and Klare, of her newborn niece swaddled as she carried the little bean, her niece crying whilst her godmother had tried to hold her, of her laughing because of it. 

She scrolled until she found what she was looking for: Catholic memes. It began as a drunken impulse while scrolling through Facebook. She had come across one that a friend had shared, she laughed more than she thought she would, and she knew she had to show someone. He was the only person who she knew would appreciate it, so she sent it to him to receive a “LMFAO” and a handful of emojis back. They had been sending one another memes ever since. They’d resolved to become friends after having coffee, realizing that they were better together than apart. Better people, respectively, that is. 

They’d had their time apart, and after all these years, they seemed to have grown because of it. 

She found one involving Thomas Aquinas, typed out ‘you.’, and quickly sent it. It was pretty lame, even for her standards, but she’d be lying if she said that their stupid memes didn’t brighten up her day. 

The door opens and comes with it was a voice saying “Good lord, you look hot.” 

She turns around immediately, almost dropping her phone which had just alerted her of a reply. She frowned when she realized it wasn’t who she was expecting-- hoped-- it would be. She quickly turned off her phone and left it by the counter before she made her way to her.

“Aren’t you glad to see your sister?” Claire jokes--  _ Yes, she jokes now _ . “Or were you just expecting someone else?” She raises a questioning eyebrow.

“No, no, of course not,” She takes a seat across from her. “Just been a slow day, wasn’t expecting much people.”

“Yes, I can see that.” She looks around to emphasize the emptiness of the store.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, not all of us can have the  _ happily ever after _ you got.”

She groans. “Please, if it was really all that happy, I wouldn’t need to kidnap you for afternoon drinks.”

“Really, you? Since when do you day drink?”

“Since it’s my day off, and Klare has the baby, which leaves me time to spend with you because he took away my work computer.”

“All right, then.” She didn’t need any more reason to close shop and get a drink. She was happy to do it. 

They get a cab and head to a local pub that they used to frequent in their teens. 

“I don’t get it, it’s supposed to be right here.” Claire says, her phone in hand, google maps repeatedly announcing ‘ _ You have arrived’ _ over and over. “Where the bloody hell is that pub?”

She looks around and notices a neon sign, the storefront painted black, but the inside featured reclaimed wood furnishings and far too many plants. Nonetheless, it looked oddly familiar.

“Is that-” She peers closer to the store, something familiar about it to her. “Oh fuck. Claire, the hipsters took over our pub.”

They walk closer to the store and realize it was the same one they were searching for. 

“I hate hipsters. With their ironic beards and man buns, it’s all just exhausting.” Claire says, peering inside. 

“You know they love to eat ass too.”

“You must be joking.”

“Oh no, they take ass eating very seriously. Went out with one once, and they almost begged me to let them do it.”

Claire cringes. “I could never.”

“So should we go in?”

“What--” But it was too late, she was already pushing the door and holding it open for Claire to go through. It’s a tight space, but they’ve somehow incorporated whole barrels into their decor without it looking out of place. It’s surprisingly full for a weekday afternoon, which left them no other choice than to take a seat on one of the barrel turned tables. 

A waiter comes up to them wearing a black muscle shirt that showed off his tattoo sleeves. 

“Cool tats.” She says.

“Thanks,” He replies handing them the drinks menu. “We also do tattoos in the back, if you’re interested.”

Claire looks horrified. This was going better than she had planned. 

“Just two martinis please.” The waiter leaves, giving her an obvious wink before leaving. 

“God, these hipsters are a whole different specie.”

“They’re fun! Come on, Claire, when was the last time you did anything remotely fun?”

“I have fun!” The waiter arrives with their drinks. “I can be fun.”

“Mmhmm.” She takes a sip of her drink, refusing to provoke her sister anymore.

“What’s that on your napkin?”

She picks it up and laughs. “His number?”

“Jesus Christ.” She takes a long sip of her drink. “Please, just don’t fuck him while I’m in the building.”

“Flattered, but he looks about 12, and I’m not ready to be a cougar just yet.” She rips up the napkin and sets it aside. 

Her phone suddenly buzzes. 

“Who’s that?” She tries to hide her phone, but Claire is faster than she looks, already unlocking the phone and going through it. “Well, well,” She said, turning the screen to show her a selfie he took with the bible opened to the gospel of Mark. ‘ _ Hangin’ with the boys’ _ he had written. “Seems like you’ve been having a lot of fun lately.”

She would have laughed at his message, but she was too flustered, grabbing at her phone. “Give it back.”

“Fine.” She hands it back. “Tell me everything.”

She looks at the picture and message, swears that she needs to remember to put a code later, then sighs.

_ This was going to be a long night _ .

She told her sister most of the events that led to their reconciliation, but in exchange they had agreed to do shots. They were halfway finished with the bottle by the time she was done telling her the story. The whole story. From the very first arm touch to the wedding to the great muffin heist to Catholic memes.

“Memes? Are you serious?”

“Hey, they’re funnier than you think. People really put a lot of thought and effort into them.”

“That’s exactly the kind of thing Jake laughs to himself about.” She takes another shot, her face twisting as it burns her throat. “So what happens now?”

“What do you mean?” She takes a shot herself, despite already feeling the alcohol’s effect.

“With you, with him. Who is he choosing, God or you?”

“He’s already made his choice, nothing’s happened for that to change.”

“So what the fuck are you doing? Sending those memes like they mean nothing.”

“They’re just pictures.” She says timidly. “We’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You’re confusing the man!”

“There’s nothing to be confused about! He’s just a nice person, and we’re--” She pauses to unlock her phone. His photo immediately comes up when she does, and she just stares at his face. “--  _ Friends _ .”

Her sister looks at her, eyes softening when she realizes what was happening. 

“Listen to me. If it’s right, things will just fall into place.”

“God, you sound just as bad as my therapist."

“Well, this is  _ exceptional _ advice that I’m giving you for free, so you better fucking listen.”

She pretends to zip her lips and throw away the key.

“Taking a chance on love was one of the scariest things I’ve ever had to do in my life. I had to sacrifice a lot. There was a lot of uncertainty. Christ, I even did all of it with that horrendous haircut.” She took her sister’s hands into hers. “But it was also one of the best things I could have ever done for myself. You deserve to be happy. In any way that will come to your life.”

Claire had touched her hands. Willingly. She was serious. 

She wasn’t about to cry at some random hipster bar, no, so instead they did shots. They finished the bottle, took a cab home, and Claire vomited all over her bathroom floor. Klare picked her up a little past midnight, laughing the entire time.

“You’re beautiful even while you’re drunk, my love.” He says as he carries her to the awaiting cab.

“I think I’m going to be sick again.” Claire says, but she shuts the door before she could see her sister retch into her shrubs. 

That’s the last thing she remembers before passing out.

The next morning, she wakes up in her bed in her underwear. She’s surprisingly dry, no puddle of pee or vomit in sight. She’s relieved from this. She goes to the kitchen to make coffee. Trying to turn on her phone to scroll through twitter for her daily news, she realizes that it had died sometime through the night and plugs it in the charger. 

She heads to the bathroom, turns on her shower and waits for the water to heat up. Removing the sparse articles of clothing she had on, she enters the shower and allows the waters to go over her. Letting the mistakes of the night wash over her. She felt lucky not to have woken up with a stranger in bed and a tattoo on her back or a piercing not on her face, both of which had happened in the past. The water washes the last of the soap from her body and she closes the tap and exits. Her wet hair still dripping and just a towel around her, she suddenly hears consecutive  _ ping _ s coming from her phone. Lifting it quizzically, she notices that most of the messages she had received, aside form the 3 Claire had drunkenly sent, were from--

“ ** _Sexy priest_ ** ?”

Three raps on the door surprise her and releases her grip on her phone. It falls to the ground. 

“Shit!” She bends down to pick her phone up, but as she does, the knot on her towel loosens, letting it fall around her.

“Hello? I noticed the door was unlocked so I--” He enters her apartment to be greeted by her on all fours with her ass up in the air. 

Her bare ass. 

_ Fuck. _


	2. Chapter 2

They sit awkwardly in her living room. He was twiddling his thumbs and stared at them as if they were the most interesting things in the world. She had finally put some clothes on, having to chase after him after he had fumbled out the door and ran away from the offending scene. He was sitting on a bus stop bench when she found him and required considerable efforts to convince him to head back to her house, with an additional promise of being fully clothed and possibly a few cans of G&Ts in the near future. 

“I-” He started, but didn’t really know how to end. “I”m sorry for barging in on you… In that position, uh, er, I mean-” He was fumbling more than usual, but she couldn’t blame him. 

“It’s all right. Nothing you haven’t seen before.” She jokes, poking fun at him to loosen him up. 

“Uhm, right, well--”

“Can I get you anything? Water, coffee, maybe one of those neuralyzers things from Men in Black?” 

This gets a laugh out of him. “That would be perfect, actually.”

She heads to the kitchen. She opens the cupboards loudly to show her point. “Oof, looks like I’m fresh out.” 

“Then coffee would be fine.”

She returns with two mugs in hand, she hands him one and takes the other to her seat. They sit and sip there quietly, not knowing how to start a conversation.

“Lovely day today.”

“Oh yes, it was quite peaceful until your ass, well, disturbed it.”

“My ass did that, did it?”

“Yeah, it seems like you and your, uh,  _ bits _ clearly have a knack of doing that.”

“What?”

“The quaker meeting a few years back, uh, your tits?” He couldn’t help himself and burst into fits of chuckles the moment  _ tits _ escaped his lips. In his laughter, she found hers as well, washing away the awkwardness in the room. 

“Honestly,” He says between gasps for air. “I Hope you don’t greet all your guests like that.”

“Only the special ones.”

“Oh, I’m special, am I?”

“Only in the ways that matter,  _ Father _ .”

“And what way is that?” He met her eyes with a darkness twinkling in his. He licked his lips, smiling knowingly but not saying anything more. 

She laughs, taking a long sip from her coffee to calm herself down. 

He was provoking her. 

“What brings you here so early in the morning, anyway?”

“‘Early’? It’s a quarter to two!”

She looks at her phone screen and confirms it. It was 1:46pm. “So it is.”

“Well, I was free today after midday service and couldn’t reach your phone-”

“Forgot to charge it last night, it’s been dead this whole time.”

“Right. Well, it’s just that you’d sent me rather-” He pauses, thinking. “- _ strange _ messages in the middle of the night.”

“What do you mean  _ strange _ ?”

He clears his throat. “Look, I know we’ve history together, and granted because of it, we’ve only recently become friends again. I just hope I didn’t give the impression that I was trying to- er, uh.”

“What?”

“Look, I really think we’re in a good place right now and I don’t want--”

“You’re being really weird right now.”

“It’s only because your messages!”

“ _ What messages?” _

He unlocks his phone and shows it to her. On the screen are dozens of gray message bubbles with random letters strung together to make barely coherent words. 

_ FUCK. _

She stares at the screen in shock before sinking into her seat and covering her face in horror. 

“I have to admit, some were quite clever,” He says, scrolling through the messages. “Here’s one I can barely make out, but I think you’re asking me to do to you what the Romans did to Jesus and na-”

She groans loudly, trying to drown out whatever he was saying. She keeps her face covered, already glowing red from embarrassment.

He laughs at this, “They’re not as bad as you think.”

“Oh, yeah, because you receiving dirty Catholic pick up lines is nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Of course, it’s half the reason I took the job.”

She shakes her head, but chuckles at this. “Ugh, I’ve made a mess of it."

“It’s all right.” He says, smiling warmly at her. “You did nothing of the sort. Truth be told, I’m just glad you hadn’t sent any raunchy pictures with it.”

“Thank God my battery died before I could.”

“Thank God indeed.”

She finally looks up at his face, and he’s still looking at her. He smiles, and it comforts her knowing that things really were fine. She didn’t know what she’d do if she lost him again. And, at this point, she was afraid to even think about it. 

She didn’t know it at the time, but he felt the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with a chapter that I was actually supposed to include in the first one! That's why its so short lmao I didn't notice that I left this part out until a few hours ago, oops :(
> 
> The succeeding chapters after this one will have some time between them rather than all of the events happening one day after the other
> 
> Also, I'm trying to make them more introspective in this story, hope it goes well!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn’t able to fully edit this one out bec I’m currently on holiday until the end of the month but I’m hoping to be able to post this and another chap up! 
> 
> Not sure if I got the dialogue completely right with respect to the characters tho huhu
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

If there was one thing that her godmother loved more than berating her goddaughters, it was throwing parties. She found every reason to throw one, including forcing Claire and Klaire to baptise their baby in order for her to do so. The whole backyard of their childhood home was adorned in pink. Pink balloons, flowers, table cloth, she had somehow even found rose gold silverware to compliment the pink china. 

They were all required to wear white, with the baby in a ridiculously long baptismal gown that she nearly got lost in. After the rites were done, the holy water poured, and the dozens of pictures taken in the church, they headed to the house for a _ small _ lunch that included nearly all of Hurbot’s executives. Even Claire was surprised with how their godmother had been able to track down and convince all of her bosses to go out on a Sunday for a non-work related event. 

“This is a disaster.” Claire says, though the twinkle in her eyes said otherwise. 

“Really?”

“My daughter’s Christening just turned into a business meeting.” She raises her champagne flute to her sister and they toast at the horror before their very eyes. Claire finishes her drink and replaces it with another from a passing waiter’s tray. She seemed to be enjoying the stress that their godmother had put her into, though she didn’t want to admit it. 

“Father, thank you so much for the lovely service.” 

He was back in his black ensemble and collar. “Of course, the pleasure was all mine. You have a beautiful family, your daughter just an absolute angel.”

“Speaking of which, I should really get back to them or someone might get angel vom on themselves. Please excuse me.” Claire says before walking to Klare who was starting to make rounds of introductions with the ball of fabric that encased their child. 

“I thought you said you don’t know how to talk to babies?”

“Oh god, no, I really don’t. But it doesn’t mean I’m a baby hater or anything.”

“Glad to know you’re not about to go around and drown babies in the Holy water.”

“That’s horrible! I’d never.” He laughs. 

“Great service, by the way.”

“Thanks, thought I’d fuck it up at some point, considering it was my first chirstening.”

“Not a lot of parents lining up to sell their babies’ souls to the Church, I see.”

They laugh light heartedly, both with a glass of champagne in hand. They’d moved to the edge of the party where they were hoping to get away from the business suit-clad guests. 

“Nice to see you properly dressed today.” He quips, looking at her from head to toe. 

“Yeah, I don’t think Pam wouldn’t let me in if she saw me totally bare in the church. Had to settle with looking like a potato sack.”

“Rather lovely sack you’ve got there.”

“Thanks, you can borrow it if you ever get tired of your priest robes.”

They continue their ever energetic banter, enjoying their time together. They’re talking about memes again-- “Have you heard of Dank Christian memes?” he asks, eyes wide in wonder, as if he had just solved the questions of the universe-- when they were interrupted. 

“Well, aren’t we being the antisocial ones.” Her godmother says, bringing the pair’s eyes to the group of people she had crowded near them. “Perhaps you’d like to join us, we were just talking about the sexhibition. I’ve been getting dozens of recommendations and people urging me to do a second show, this time focusing on various external influencers and subjects close to me.”

“That sounds wonderful.” He replies.

_ That sounds terrible. _

“I think _ you’d _ be a perfect subject, Father.”

“Oh, really? I think there are other far more interesti-”

“An introspection of a priest’s journey navigating through his sexual desire within his vocation.” She has her hands raised and her eyes looking upward. The guests around her look up too, attempting to figure out what she was seeing. 

“That’s not exactly what I-”

“It would be absolutely perfect! You must tell me what it’s like leading a celibate life. I Just couldn’t possibly devote myself to abstinence, I’m far too much a sexual being, isn’t that right Darling?” It was only then that they noticed her father had been part of the crowd the entire time. “Do tell us, Father, why are priests really never allowed to have sexual relations?”

The group was looking at him now. “Well, the church believes that priests should give their time to the church and leading a life similar to that of Jesus, who, according to the bible, was a celibate man as well.” He cleared his throat, trying to hide how awkward he felt being put on the spot. 

“But what of Mary Magdalene. Was she not a whore that was quite close to Him?”

“Jesus dined with lepers, thieves, even tax collectors on a daily basis, He welcomed all to his table, so a promiscuous woman wouldn’t be too out of place among his people.”

“A rather religious figure-- a former archbishop friend, but I wouldn’t want to drop names-- told me that there was some truth that Jesus actually engaged in relations with Mary Magdalene. Some artifacts that vatican may be hiding in their hallowed halls.”

“Well, er, there were many talks surrounding that, but the church chooses to believe what is written within the bible.”

“But didn’t you tell me that the bible wasn’t to be taken literally, so wouldn’t that mean there’s no real proof that Jesus was actually a virgin his entire life?” She says after being silent the entire time. He shoots her a pleading look not to bury him deeper into the subject, but she couldn’t help herself. She was curious too. And it was fun seeing his squirm.

“There was actually a gap of Jesus’ formative years in the New Testament, from when he was twelve until he was thirty years of age. So we can only speculate about what he had been doing in that time.” A guest adds that stokes murmuring within the crowd and the attention of others in the party. “For all we know of Jesus, he _ could _ have been very sexual during his adolescence, only turning away from that life and abstaining after hearing God’s call. Just as many saints did.”

“I feel it’s quite ironic that the men officiating marriages can’t get married themselves. Aren’t priests supposed to be the very pillars of example for their parishioners?” Her godmother tries to divert the conversation back to her, seeing as she was losing the crowd’s attention.

“Pope Francis actually-”

“Have you ever been in love, Father? Whilst you’ve been ordained, of course.”

This caught everyone’s ear. Chatter stopped and they looked towards him for an answer. Even Claire gave her a quick look with a raised eyebrow. 

His ears were growing red, his gaze downward, afraid to catch anyone’s eye. “I’ve thought, well assumed, I was in love, many, many times before. But that love wasn’t real. It was a very shallow short of love that began physically and remained there. 

“Love, for me, is something that brings out the best of your partner for their benefit. The good of the other for the other. I didn’t find real love until I’d become a priest, and I’ve only ever known love like that once-”

“And that was God, yes?” Her godmother interjects.

He smiles in response. 

With this, the other guests began dispersing from the conversation, hoping that he would have afforded them more controversial answers. Her father and godmother, satisfied with his replies, moved with the crowd and looked for others in the party to terrorize. 

She quickly takes two glasses of wine from the table and returns to him, stuck in place and in a daze.

“Here.” She hands him a glass which he downs immediately. “How are you feeling?”

“Jesus Christ, I’ve never felt so violated.” 

She shrugs her shoulders. “She does that. I’m still trying to get used to it myself.”

“Are you all right?” Claire ran up to them once the others had moved away. On her heels was Klare and a wad to white cloth he was struggling with, inside it was their daughter. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get to you sooner, but it really was rather entertaining from my end.”

“At least you’ve gotten some enjoyment from that.”

“Well, I do hope this makes it up for it. It was supposed to be a _ Thank You _gift, but I guess it’s an apology gift as well now.” She hands him a tall paper bag.

“I heard you liked your spirits, so we bought this specially for you from Finland.” Klare adds. 

He accepts it graciously and thanks them. “I’m quite spent for the night, so I think I’ll be going. Thank you again for inviting me, and for the whiskey.”

“You’re welcome, Father, I hope _ she _ hasn’t chased you away from us yet.” The family leave to mingle with their guests.

They walk together out of the house and into the empty street, the sun just about to set and a cool breeze washing past them. It was a welcomed peace that steadied his nerves from the day’s events. It was never a boring day in that household. He would know. 

“Fancy a nightcap?” he says, lifting the paper bag he was gifted. 

She nodded. “I’d love one.” 

It was far too early to be having a nightcap, so they walked the streets some more before stumbling to the cafe, where they decided to break open the bottle and pair it with random cheeses laying around. They were greeted by excited squeaking courtesy of Hilary and Stephanie, who were rewarded with baby carrots. 

“Do you think a hamster and a guinea pig can have a baby together?” He asks, pouring whiskey into mismatched mugs. 

“So it’ll be something of a ‘ham-pig’? Bit redundant, don’t you think.”

He laughs into his glass, shaking his head, before taking a sip, savouring the rich flavours of well aged Finnish whiskey. 

“You’re aware they’re both females though, right? They can’t get pregnant.”

He fake gasps. “Are you saying that two women can’t make a family?”

“I don’t think there’s such a thing as inter-pet adoption, sadly.”

“Shame, I could have performed the christening for them.”

They laugh, but settle into a silence that hung thickly between them. 

“Are you really going to-” “Klare’s got great taste in-” They fumble in unison. They smile, he gestures for her to continue. 

“Are you really going through with partaking in the sexhibition?”

“I don’t know how she does it, but I always get sucked into her weird shit. I don’t think she’ll let me say ‘no’ even if i wanted to.”

“Totally your choice, but if she does make a mould of your penis, you’ve really got nothing to worry about.” She pokes fun at him. 

He shakes his head and raises it to look at her. The day had been so busy that it was the first time he was really seeing her. She was wearing her usual deep red lipstick, but it had faded with the day. Her eyes were still bright though looked weary as it often did after any form of interaction with her godmother. Her hair was longer, just above her shoulders, and she had put on pearl berrets. The whiskey taking its toll, giving her a soft blush. She looked lovely. 

“I mean, if I’m going to be part of the next sexhibition, you _ have _ to be part as well.”

Her eyes grow wide and she shakes her head. Laughing at the very thought. 

“Why not!”

“I don’t think I’d be able to give anything so noteworthy as a celibate priest.”

“Oh, come now, I’m sure you’ve got your fair share of _ other _ raunchy hook-up stories up your sleeve. It would be a shame to hide those from the world.” He takes a rather lengthy sip and pours himself more from the bottle. “I, for one, would love to hear all about the others.”

“Hmm, well, I’ve stumbled into a plateau of sorts since that time, so not much to tell, really.”

“What do you mean?”

She takes a sip from her drink, she was going to need a lot more courage to admit anything to him. “Er, uh, well, it’s been a_ while _ for me.”

“I don’t think a couple of sexless months constitute a plateau. You’ll be fine.” He jokes.

She bites her lower lip, sucking in a breath. “More like a few _ years _.” she mumbles.

Whiskey catches on his throat as he hears this. He looks at her in surprise, his eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. “_ Years _.” He repeats, chuckling as he says it. 

“Don’t laugh!”

“No! No, I apologize, I just didn’t expect-”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect you to understand me.”

_ “So, there hasn’t been anyone after me?” _ he wants to ask, but instead he drinks the thought away. 

The difficulty with their relationship wasn’t what was said, but rather, all the things they never had the courage to say. It was a constant tiptoeing around each other, trying to remain safe, in the comfort of familiarity, that all other feelings were swept under a rug. A facade of friendship, companionship, anything but the truth. 

“So, uh, when was the last time you made love?”

“‘_ Made love’ _? What is this, the middle ages? Who even calls it that?” She sounded on guard, a bit defensive. It was something too personal for her, and sharing wasn’t her strong suit. “Just call it what it is: sex.”

“But there _ is _ a difference between the two, you know.”

“I didn’t have you pegged for a romantic.” She scoffs.

“And what’s wrong with that! What’s wrong with believing in love?” He says with the goofy, aloof grin that always brightens her day. It was enough for her to almost believe in his words. Almost.

“It’s a bit too sappy for my tastes.”

“Love isn’t purely confined to romance, you know, there’s love for friends, family, _ self _-” He gestures to her. “- and, my favorite: agape.”

“What does _ that _ mean?”

“It’s unconditional love.” He pauses to take a drink. “Agape is considered the highest form of love and charity a person can feel. Even deeper than the love between lovers or families. It’s the love that, the church believes, God feels for all his creation.”

“Is that how you love, _ Father _?” She says this in a way that grounds them back to reality. Reminding him of his status, of his duties, of the life he had chosen when he left her in that bus stop years ago. 

“Not many people can say they’ve known agape, but I’d like to think I’ve felt it, even just once.” 

Their eyes meet, her breath hitches, there’s electricity in the air. They find themselves unconsciously closing the space between them, she could feel his warm breath on her face, he could smell her perfume mixing with the bitter smell of whiskey. She reaches for the bottle on the table, hoping her movements would break the tension between them, but he takes it from her hands, setting it to the side. He keeps hold of her hand in his. 

He watches her as she keeps her eyes low, never raising them enough to meet his. She looks at everything- _ anything _\- except his eyes. 

His neck.

_ His lips _.

She lets out a breath just from thinking about them. He keeps his eyes steady on her. It would be so easy to lift her chin and meet her lips with his. So easy to forget the world around them, letting the walls they’ve built around themselves crumble and let each other in. Forget the past three years they’ve missed out on each other. So easy to forget the difficulty of getting to where they were now. So easy to destroy their friendship. So easy to hurt each other. All over again.

He couldn’t do that to her. 

She couldn’t do that to him. 

So he clears his throat and draws himself back. “I- I should head back. To the rectory.”

She doesn’t move from her seat, but nods her head. “Yeah. Yeah, I think you should.”

He takes his time fixing his things and heads to the door. “I’ll, uh, see you. Next sunday?”

“Can’t wait.” She replies with a slightly forced smile. 

The bells ring, and he’s gone. She buries her face into her hands the moment he’s out of sight. 

_ I’m in hell _.

Her phone vibrates.

** _Sexy Priest sent you a photo._ **

_ Even worse, I’m in purgatory _.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Sexual harassment (i.e. Catcalling and the like)

“Limbo? You mean the weird dance they do in kids parties and cruises for the elderly?” She asks.

“Don’t be daft, I’m talking about the Limbo from Dante’s Inferno.” Belinda says as she pops an olive into her mouth. “Honestly, didn’t you ever pay attention in school or has our public school system just failed an entire generation?”

They hadn’t seen each other in a while, but Belinda always made sure to call her up for a drink or two (or six) whenever she was in town. She had become a welcomed low maintenance friend that offered more than just free drinks, but wisdom and someone to laugh about her life with. 

She laughs, but only to stall for time as she tries to do a quick google search about Dante and his bloody inferno under the table. 

“Save your energy and mobile data, sweets, I’ll just tell you. Basically, Limbo is where people who aren’t necessarily bad  _ or _ good go to. Just like yourself. Pagans, unbaptised babies, people who aren’t wretched enough to deserve the arse punishments of hell but lack the Mother Theresa quality for heaven.”

“So you’re telling me that my relationship with him is in this  _ Limbo _ that’s stuck and can’t really go anywhere.”

“He  _ is _ a priest, darling. What did you expect getting into it?”

“Not be compared to unbaptised dead babies, at the very least.” She sighs. “I don’t know, maybe it was a mistake being friends with him again. I don’t think it’s doing either of us any good.”

“Pull yourself together, you’re sounding more like a lovesick teenager.” She orders another round of martinis. “You’re a businesswoman. What do you do when you’re not getting returns on your investment?”

“You nurture it until it does?”

She snorts at the very thought. “No. You cut your losses and shut the whole thing down.”

They parted ways after finishing their drinks, Belinda to a business dinner to go to, while she had a lot of thinking to do.

She didn’t resent Belinda for being straightforward and honest, rather, she respected her for it. That was one woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it. Whereas she was lost in the dark with not even a torch to help guide her way or stop her from bumping into anything. And there had been a lot of bumps, very possibly some bruising, along her path. 

She roamed the city a bit more, walking past streets lined with storefronts closing up for the day towards the more posh houses. Through the windows she notices families having supper together, smiling and laughing and telling stories of their day. It was all very mundane and normal. Something she hadn’t had in a long time. 

Normal seemed to be out of reach for her. Anything that was supposedly  _ normal _ in people’s lives never came so easy for her. Her family, business, friends, love. She met every one of them in the most unusual of circumstances. And each would leave with a little part of her with them. 

No wonder she felt so broken. 

So many had already come and gone, chipping away at her piece by piece, that it was a miracle she could still stand. But stand she did. Because there was nothing else she could do. Because no one else was going to fix her but her. She only had herself to rely on. 

A wolf whistle from the other side of the street breaks her reverie and returns her to reality. It was a group of men dressed in suits who were stumbling home, obviously after having gone to the pub for a few pints.

Usually, she would just let it go and keep on walking. But she had no patience for patriarchy’s bullshit today. So she flipped them off. 

“Aww, come on, darlin’ don’ be like that.” A man slurred, not realizing that he was shouting. 

She continued walking, ignoring them. It was late at night, in a street she wasn’t too familiar with, she didn’t need trouble. 

“We were just givin’ ye a compliment, love!” Another adds. 

She continues on. 

“Give us a smile! We’re nice blokes, and you look like fun.” Another says.

She quickens her pace when she realizes that they crossed the street and were walking towards her, trying to match her stride. Her heartbeat accelerates when she realizes that she left her pepper spray at home. It was three to one, she didn’t like her odds. She hurriedly grabs for her phone in her pocket.

“Hey, give us yer number! We’ll show you a fantastic time.” They continue.

The first app that pops up when she opens her is google maps, showing her where the nearest bus stop was. It was just around the corner and there was a bus arriving in less than two minutes. She walks briskly, feeling the group of gaining on her. 

“Oy! Wait for us, madame!” One yells, laughing with the others.

_ Arriving in one minute _ .

Their jeers and laughter sending shivers down her spine and making her skin crawl. She basically runs around the corner to the bus stop. In her hurry she bumps into someone who was already waiting for the same bus as her. 

“Hey!” The man complains as they collide. She notices the bus was still nowhere to be seen. The group of men already rounding the corner.

“Hello, my darling, have you been waiting long?” She says loud enough for the men chasing her to hear and continue their walk, albeit with a few murmured curses at her. She watches them as they trod off, and only after they’re out of sight does she let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in.

“Uh, er, were we supposed to meet tonight?” 

“Oh! It’s you.” She says breathless. “What are you doing out of the church?”

He looks at her quizzically, confusion written all over his face. “Uh, I’m sorry, but did we have plans tonight? I don’t think I got any texts.”

“No, no, that was a lie… I just... Well, I-”   


“Are you all right? God, you’re shaking. What’s happened?”

She waves him off. “I’m fine, I’m fine. There were these arseholes who wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“You mean those men that just passed by?” He cranes his neck to see where they went but they were long gone. “What did they do to you?”

“Leave it, they were just pissed.”

“Being drunk isn’t an excuse to harass someone.” He looks at her and notices that she seemed disoriented. “Come here, sit down, you’re in shock.”

“Honestly! I’m fine, I’m not in shock.” She says but sits anyway. He takes the seat next to her and places a hand on her shoulder. 

“What’re you doing in strange neighbourhoods at this time of night?”

“I could ask you the same thing. It’s  _ way _ past your bed time.”

“Hey, I can let loose and get down with the lads too, you know.”

She let out a half hearted chuckle.

“Are you sure you’re all right, do you want me to call someone?”

“I’m fine, really, I was just a bit frightened. You wouldn’t happen to have any whiskey on you right now, would you?”

“Err, sorry, I don’t.”

“No matter. I think I have some at home.” She rises from her seat. “Well, thank you for the help with my little skit, but I should go home.”

“Woah, hey,” He stands up and grabs her by the elbow. “I don’t think you’re in any state to be left alone.”

“No really, I’m--”

“Look, the bus isn’t arriving anytime soon and those pricks might still be around. Let me walk you home. Please.”

“Ugh, fine. Fine.” She says, too tired to argue with him further.

They leave the bus stop and start walking.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He breaks the silence. They had been walking a few hundred meters without a word, something that hardly ever happened when he was with her. 

“There’s not much to talk about, just some cunt’s fragile masculinity got bruised.” She snorted. 

“I’m really sorry that happened to you, on behalf of all men.” He says this genuinely, his eyes trained on her with concern. “We really are trash.”

She give him a small smile in return. 

They spend the rest of the walk in silence, not knowing what else he could do or say. Luckily, her flat wasn’t as far of a walk as she had expected. He kept an appropriate distance from her -  _ room for the Holy spirit  _ \- as they made their way down to more familiar roads. They were the very same ones he had passed by before, multiple times. He knew those brick buildings and well kept gardens from all the times he would check up on her, but he would barely reach her gate before coming to his senses and walking away.

But that was ages ago. This time, he would make it all the way to her front door. There was no going back. 

They stand under the dim light of the porch lamp. He notices her hard grip on her house keys, as if ready to wield them as a weapon if need be. 

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asks gently. 

“Yes! How many times do I have to repeat myself?” She says, rather sharply. She turns away from him and attempts to unlock her door, but her keys keep missing the keyhole. She was shaking. This frustrates her even more. 

He takes the house keys from her hands and, with one movement, has the door unlocked and swings it open. “It’s okay not to be strong all the time, y’know, you can depend on other people too.” He says, taking her hand and dropping the keys into her palm. “Well, I’m here, at the very least.”

She’s frozen on the spot, surprised at him, his words, his presence. He was overwhelming. 

“I’ll just--” He looks at her, she won’t - can’t - meet his eyes. “Go.”

He turns and makes his way to the quiet streets. The moment he leaves her side, she feels cold. She watches his retreating figure, suddenly panicking when she realizes he’s about to turn a corner, out of her sight, away from her. 

“W--” She tries to let out, but her throat is dry and her voice hoarse. “Wait!”

He stops mid step and turns his head. The street lights shining on his profile making him look ephemeral, his features more pronounced, his eyes, though dark, seemed brighter. 

“Please,” She manages to let out. 

“Stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again there! This was a difficult chapter to write, and even as I post this, I have no idea how people will react to it. But I wanted to write something about the facade of strength that a lot of people i know put up. It's hard being strong. It's not something "natural" for anyone. It hardens people, but also makes them brittle. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

They slept together that night.

He made her tea, tucked her in bed, and though he had refused at first, he eventually agreed to stay the night after getting _that_ look from her. He didn’t understand it himself, but he found answers to questions he didn’t even know he was asking in her brown eyes. It consumed him. With more than a little hesitation, he gave in to her demands and he slept on her couch in the sitting room.

When his alarm woke him up at 5:30am, the sun had barely peeked through the clouds. It was moments later that he noticed that something heavy was restricting his movement. She had apparently moved to the couch with him some time in the night. There was also a blanket draped over both of them that had not been there when he’d fallen asleep. He smiled. She looked so peaceful. 

He shifted around, very carefully, and found a way to unwedge himself from the couch and her sleeping body. He had half a mind to just take his coat and leave the flat before she, and the entire world, woke up. But he looked over at her, still sleeping, snuggled under the blanket, frowning slightly as she moved in search for his warmth. He couldn’t bring himself to just up and go. 

He went to the lavatory and ran cold water over his face, trying to wake himself up to reality. He had been in this position before, doubting himself and his faith in front of this very mirror. Though he had been less clothed at the time, discounting the additional lines on his face, nothing seemed to be different. He was still as conflicted as that day three years ago. 

Leaving the bathroom, the smell of coffee washed through him. The sun already up and bright, lighting up the entire flat with a yellow haze. There was movement in the kitchen, he could hear bustling of cars and people on the street. It all seemed so familiar, so comfortable. It almost made him feel back at home. 

“Well, you’re up early.” She was in a ratty old shirt that had a faded school insignia on. Her hair in a nest of curls, and her face bare but glowing. She was making coffee.

“Couldn’t get much sleep,” he took a seat on the wooden dining table. “Something heavy was weighing down on me, squeezed the living day lights out of me. Could hardly even breathe.”

She chuckles lightly and pours them both a cup of coffee. “Sorry I don’t usually have much for breakfast, and I haven’t gone ‘round to the shops recently.”

“No, no, don’t trouble yourself. I’d be fine with just a glass of water.” She hands him a mug and a plate of toast. “Do you have any jam?”

She gives him a sideways glance but hands him the jar and sits across him. The sound of them munching on their toast fills the silence between them.

“I don’t think I got to thank you for last night,” She says, her mouth half full. “For walking me home and staying even though you didn’t have to.” 

“No, no, it was my pleasure.” He says, his mouth stuffed with toast and jam.

She smiles at him over her mug as she watches him, not realizing that jam had gotten to his cheek. 

“What?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing.”

“What!” He smiles, “Is there something on my face?” 

“You’ve just got a little…” She motions with her finger.

“A little what?” He wipes at his cheek, but all it does is smear it further. “Did I get it?”

She laughs and leans over to wipe it off for him. Her hand lingers on his face a moment too long before she takes it back. She continues with her breakfast, her eyes kept down. 

“This- this is nice.” He says, still feeling the warmth of her touch on his cheek.

“Hmm.” She replies, nodding her head and getting back to her toast.

He leaves after breakfast, and she’s left with a bittersweet melancholy as she went about the rest of her day. There was a tinge of sadness whenever they were together. It was as if she were expecting him to disappear at any moment. As if that meeting would be their last. Yet again. 

She tries to shake that feeling off, comforting herself by reminding herself that he was here  _ now _ .

_ But for how long? _

Several days pass, and they don’t see each other, not a single word or message from him. She found it odd, even going as far as visiting the church to see him, only to be told by Pam that he was off to a retreat in the countryside. 

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” She asks, still smiling but feeling her patience wear thin.

“Sorry, dear, I was just told to hold down the fort until Father returns.” Pam replies with a smile.

She walks into her house suffocated by his absence. It was all she could think about. Where he had slept on her couch, the chair he sat on for breakfast, the mug he used for coffee, the spare toothbrush she had given him. She clung to any and every reminder that he had been there. 

Because she needed to know that he wasn’t gone. Not again. He wouldn’t leave her. 

She felt the unseen cracks on her skin. The years of wear and tear she had gone through, how delicate she must be after all that she experienced. She felt the cracks deepening on her skin as her heart sank with every thought that crossed her mind.

_ What if he left for good? _

_ What did I do wrong? _

_ Did I force him out of town?  _

When _ will he come back? _

Will _ he come back?  _

_ What did I say wrong?  _

And, worst of all,

_ Was I not enough again? _

Her head began to spin, she felt tears threatening to fall, her heart beating faster. She had to sit down. She needed to take a breath and calm down. But she couldn’t, she felt her whole world was crashing before her very eyes. And she couldn’t do anything but watch. Just like it did with her mom. With boo. And it was happening again. 

The door bell rang for a third time, the previous two were drowned out by her thoughts.

Her head spinning, her fingertips numb, she unlocks her front door and manages to open it.

“Hello.” He says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for Fleabag's Emmy wins! Very proud and well deserved! So to celebrate here's a chapter lol
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	6. Chapter 6

“Dad?”

“Hello, darling,” her dad repeats, awkwardly shifting his feet as he stands on her porch steps. “May I come in? It’s a tad chilly and I’ve forgotten my cardi at home.”

“Uh, um, sure, sure go right ahead.”

He heads inside and looks around at her quaint apartment. She looks at him quizzically. 

“I’m sorry, was I expecting you?”

“Oh, uh, er, no. I just thought I might, er, pop by and, uh-“ he trails off.

“It’s not really a good time right now dad, I was sort of in the middle of a crisis just now.” She says with a smile.

“Hmm, er, is that- is that so?”

“Yes. A rather large existential crisis, actually. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to do it in the peace of my own home. Alone.”

“Oh, hm, well, I was actually about to, uh, to invite you to-“

“Dad, _please_ **.**” She was tired, and she needed to be alone. She didn’t need an audience for her misery.

“C-come with me.” He finally says. He shuffles to the door before she can say another word, and she follows despite much rather staying put.

He goes to his car and waits for her to get in. He waits for her to fasten her seatbelt, like he would when she was a child, before starting the car and driving off. He doesn’t say a word the whole time. Not while he was driving through the streets of London, not when bicyclists overtook him because of how slow he drove, not when they parked. He got out of the car without a word, and though confused, she followed suit. 

He shuffled across the iron gates, she trailed behind. They continued down the worn path and they stopped at the exact same spot.

It was a cloudy day, trees shedding their leaves which lay brown around the lush greenery. They were the only two in the whole place, not moving from their spot and keeping their heads low. It had been a long time since she had been here with her father.

“Y-your mother was not an easy person to be with…” he finally says. He lays a bouquet of freesias that she didn’t realize he had brought. “But, er, she knew, hm, she knew how to m-make people smile and laugh even when they didn’t want to- _especially_ when they didn't want…”

She smiled at this, remembering moments from her childhood filled of her mother’s laughter.

“... I know I don’t, er, I don’t always know what to, uh, say or do to- to help...“ he pauses.

“You do enough, dad.”

He nods, but she knows he doesn’t fully believe this. 

“Well, er, darling, I’m here. Whenever I can, uh, I’m here... For you.”

“Huh.”

“Hm?”

“People seem to be saying that a lot to me lately.” She says with a sad smile.

“Then maybe, er, darling, you should listen.” He tucks stray hair behind her ear, just as he did when she was younger. The act both surprised and comforted her.

They left shortly after that and he drops her off in the cafe.

“I-I can bring you back to your flat, dear, it, uh, it would be no bother.” He says through the car window.

“It’s quite all right, dad, I just need to tidy up a bit then I’ll head home.”

He nods his head and drives off. 

Once inside, she gives Hilary and Stephanie some cucumber, sweeps the floors, throws away expiring ingredients, wipes all the counters and tables. She does anything to keep herself busy.

It was difficult feeling perpetually alone, even more so after watching so many people in her life come and go as if she were just a minor detour in the grand scheme of things. Claire said that it was one of the things that made her interesting, that she was and always would be fine. But her sister didn’t notice the fine cracks just beneath her skin. 

She wasn’t fine.

And it was only now that she could admit that out loud. Thanks to hundreds of pounds and hours of going to her psychiatrist, of course. She was finally able to say that out loud. 

So maybe the fine cracks would always be there, and it would be all right. It wouldn’t be the end of everything as she knew it.

She took a deep breath. 

_ Maybe try to _ stop _ bottling everything up and repressing them, hm? _ The words of her psych echoes in head. 

Maybe. Maybe she should. Maybe she should listen this time. 

She brought out her phone and started typing. She wrote a few drafts before she was finally pleased with her message and sent it. 

_ Thanks for being there today, dad. _

A reply came a minute later. 

“Well, that was quick.” She said to herself. Surprised that her very technologically inept father could even work his mobile phone that quickly.

She picks up her phone and in big bold letters, the screen reads out: 

**Sexy Priest sent you a message.**


	7. Chapter 7

She no longer wanted her life to be put on hold for anyone else’s benefit. She tried to continue on. A few days had passed since he had messaged her and she still hadn’t opened it. He had messaged her a couple more times, but she wasn’t ready to see what he had to say. 

Truth be told, his absence affected her more than she liked. She knew better than to allow herself and her happiness to be attached to one person. Not after everything she went through with Boo. So she needed to recenter herself again. And to do that, she had to take a step back and get back on track.

It wasn’t her pettiness that refused to answer him, it was mostly fear. Fear that all she had been worrying about was true. That he really was gone for good. That it was her fault. That she hurts everyone around her, most of all, the people that she loves. But that wasn’t something she wanted to delve into at the moment, so instead she fixed up the order a table outside had asked for and brought it to them.

“All right!” She says cheerfully, placing the cups and plates onto the table. “That’s two cappuccinos and an avocado toast. Hope you enjoy.”

She goes back to the kitchen to fix up another order when the bell on the counter rings.

“Just a moment, be right there.” She wipes her hands on her pinny and turns around to face the customer.

“Hey.” He says with a smile. 

She blinks a few times, trying to register the image in front of her. 

“You weren’t answering your phone, so I thought I’d drop by.” His hands were in his pockets, his shoulders slightly slouched. He looked carefree and relaxed, well rested even. Worse of all, he looked good.

“Been busy.” She replies with a tight smile.

“Well, I just got back from a regional Bishop’s retreat a few days ago. Thought maybe you’d be free to hang out later.”

“I’ve kind of got my hands full right now, don’t really have time to  _ hang out _ .” She replies, her words laced with venom. She turns away from him and gets back to preparing sandwiches. 

She pushes past him with her tray and delivers an order to a couple by the window. 

“I’m sorry, but, uh, did I say something wrong?” He asks.

“I don’t know, did you?”

He raises his hands up to his chest in defense, “I’m… not sure?”

A customer raises their hand to ask for the check. She nods at them and ignores him.

“Then it’s all well and good.” She hands the customers their check and rushes to clear a table.

“No, no, you’re obviously miffed, so let’s talk about it.”

She takes the mugs and plates from the table and places them on her tray. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There obviously is! Since you won’t even stop or look at me while we’re talking.” His voice was raised enough for the idle chatter in the cafe to stop. Customers look at them, their eyes trailing his reaction against hers. 

She puts the tray down next to the sink then goes to him, grabs his wrist, and drags him through the back door.

“Well, that was incredibly rude of you.” She says as soon as the door shuts.

“ _ I _ was being rude? What was all of that back there, why won’t you talk to me like a proper human being?”

“Oh, like how you just  _ disappear _ without a word and come walking back like nothing happened?  _ Proper human beings _ don’t just do that!”

“What?”

“You just left! And like an  _ idiot _ , I was actually worried!”

He was quiet for a while. She was still seething, her hands balled next to her. He blinked a few times. “Y-you were worried?”

“Of course I was you fucking idiot! I couldn’t stop thinking about you!”

“You couldn’t?” He was inching closer, taking small steps toward her. 

“You couldn’t have been bothered to leave a message or a note or-or anything! I thought something terrible had happened to you.”

“They took our phones during the retreat.” He says breathily, still inching closer. He was just an arm’s length away from her. 

“That’s still no excuse, I-I didn’t know what to think…” She notices how close he was and takes a step back. 

“I didn’t think you’d notice, much less  _ care,  _ so much.” He takes a final step toward her.

Her back against the wall, she had nowhere else to go. “Well, I did.” She rolls her eyes at him, refusing to meet his gaze. 

He bites his lip to stop himself smiling. “I thought about you, too... The whole time I was gone. I prayed for you.”

His words envelope her in a haze, words she never thought she would ever hear. It made her heart skip a beat, her palms start to sweat. She even felt her deodorant suddenly vaporize. 

He was so close to her. Close enough to touch, something that he could have only dreamed of a few months ago. But she was there, she was real, she was right in front of him. Without him realizing it, his hand reaches up to her cheek, his knuckles softly caressing her jawline. Slowly moving his fingers to her chin, his thumb gently resting on her lower lip.

She watches his face the entire time. His soft gaze on her lips, his hand on her chin. Her against a cold stone wall, his warmth all over her. It was a familiar position they had been in many years ago, in her father’s home, right before a wedding. Her breath hitched at the very thought.

Time seemed to stand still. They were waiting on each other to make a move. Just one move that would break down their walls and make all other barriers inconsequential. 

He raises his eyes to meet hers. She reminds herself to breathe. 

“I’m still mad at you.” She manages to murmur.

He chuckles at this, biting his lower lip and shaking his head. 

_ God, that was sexy _ .

Neither showed any inclination of moving away, so they stay in their position. His fingers on her hair and her hands on his chest. 

The only thing that pulls them back to reality was the incessant ringing of the counter bell. There was a customer. 

“I-I should go get that.” She says.

“All right.” He nods, reluctantly taking a step back to let her loose from the bubble they had created. 

She straightens out her clothes and takes a few steps towards the door before turning around and saying, “I’ll talk to you later.”

She hears him say “Okay” before the door closes shut and she attends to the waiting customer. 

“Hi, what can I get you?” She asks with a bright smile, her cheeks fully red and her heart beating fast. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that, can you repeat your order?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get myself out of a bad mix of writer's block and pure laziness and existential turmoil
> 
> Any feedback regarding the pace of the story (especially w the slow burn) would be much appreciated!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	8. Chapter 8

She heads to the church after she closes down the cafe for the day. She walks slowly, thinking about what she wants to say, what he would say back, what the earlier events meant. But ultimately, she just wanted to see him.

It was stupid and nonsensical, but she did. Plus she had told him that they’d talk later, and she wasn’t one to go back on her word. Not anymore. 

She knocks on the heavy wooden rector door, hears some scuffling and things falling, a hushed “oh shit”, before it opens. 

“Hi.” He says with a wide smile. His hair mused, and wearing a shirt that was about two sizes too big on him that had a bible verse printed on it. 

“Nice shirt.” She replies and follows him inside. 

“Aw, thanks it was one of the goodies-” She raises her eyebrow and chuckles at ‘goodies’ “-I got from the other priests. We each got different verses written on them.” 

“Go on then, what does  _ Psalm 42:11 _ have to say?” She reads from the back of his shirt while he fixes them tea.

“ _ ‘Why am I so sad, why am I so troubled? I will put my hope in God and once again I will praise him, my saviour and my God.’” _ He says without missing a beat. “It’s a verse that’s given me great comfort… These past years.”

He hands her a cup of tea. She sips it loudly, bringing more attention to the tension in the air. 

“Thank you for coming to see me.” He starts.

“Of course, I said I would and I don’t just  _ ghost  _ people.” She says, making a dig at him. 

“Fair enough, but I did plan on texting you. They took our phones before I could.”

“Listen, you’ve made it very clear what we are to each other, and it was stupid of me to act that way. I shouldn’t have been worried about you or even given a single fuck you were gone. You don’t owe me anything, and I was just overreacting. Probably just hormones from my period or something.”

“And what is that?”

“Sorry, what?”

“What is it? What are we to each other?”

“Well, uh, we’re…” 

“Friends?”

“Exactly.” Her heart lurches when he says the word, but she agrees nonetheless. Because that was the truth. That’s what they were.

“Right.” He nods slowly. She bites her tongue, chastising herself for being so harsh.

Silence fills the room, nothing but the sound of sipping and tea cups touching the table.

“Well I should-” “Do you want to-” They say in unison. They both laugh awkwardly at their fumble, she gestures for him to start.

“Would you happen to be free later for dinner? My treat, of course.” He says. He chews on his bottom lip as he waits for her reply.

She squints at him, twisting her mouth, before saying “Throw in a few G&Ts and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He brings her to a small hole in the wall Italian restaurant a little ways away from the Church, far enough that no one there knew he was a priest. 

“I was walking around when I first got into town and got lost. Ducked into this little place and I’ve been going here ever since.” He says as he takes off his coat, “They do something to their spag bol that’s just incredible.”

A waiter goes to them to bring them each a menu. He takes it but doesn’t look, already decided on his order. She pages through the menu and ends up choosing the first dish her she reads when the waiter returns to take their orders. 

“And can we also have two G&Ts please.” She says.

“Molto bene, I’ll be right back with your drinks and a candle for the table.” The waiter replies and leaves before she could say another word. 

They’re left in silence, the small restaurant bustling around them. It was a weekday night, but there were few couples dining around them, some talking in hushed voices while others had their eyes glued to their phones. She felt her palms sweating on her lap, and she bit her tongue to avoid laughing at a child who had marinara sauce all over his face. He noticed this as well and they chuckled lightly. 

“Well, this is quite nice, isn’t it?” He says as their drinks arrive and a candle is set between them. 

“Way nicer than what I usually do for dinner,” Which usually consisted of leftover chinese take away or a bag of crisps. “So in some ways, you’re still doing your Catholic duty of feeding the hungry.”

He laughs, and she watches how the corners of his mouth turn up, his shoulders move, his neck wrinkles. The candle giving his face a warm glow and a sparkle in his eyes. He was magnificent. 

“Your main course.” The waiter announces, interrupting her thoughts and pulling her back to reality. He had ordered spaghetti bolognese while she had gotten a fish dish that she had never seen before. 

They idly chat over dinner, small talk about the weather, how her past weeks had been without him - she’d said it was boring and uneventful impassively and he pokes fun at her for admitting how much she had missed him - and they fell into a comfortable back and forth until dessert arrives. 

“Well, come on then, let me have some of that.” He looks at her hungrily. 

“No! Get your own tiramisu!” She laughs, pulling her plate away from him. 

“Aw, but your dessert looks better.”

“It’s not my fault you ordered a cheesecake.”

He looked at her with pleading eyes and a frown. She was a sucker for this man’s antics.

“Fine, but just a little.” She proceeds to cut him a small piece of her tiramisu, when he reaches over and tries to take the fork from her. “Hey!”

“That’s barely anything!” He chuckles along with her as she resists his hold on the fork.

“I said just a bite, not half the cake!” She’s laughing and she catches him staring at her with a wide smile Her grip on the fork loosens and drops to the ground, their hands stay in place. Her hand in his.

Keeping his gaze on her, he slowly laces his fingers with hers and keeps them intertwined. Even when the waiter came to give them a new fork. Even after getting their check. Even as they walked through the cool London night. Anyone that saw them could have easily mistaken them for a couple, but they hardly cared. 

He walks her to her front door, their hands still locked and both lingering to see what would happen next.

“What, no invite in?” He jokes.

She fakes shock with a hand to her chest for effect. “I would never do  _ that _ on a first date, much less to my  _ priest _ .” She teases.

“So you’re saying this was a date then?” He refuses to let go of her even while she unlocks her door.

“Judging by your death grip on my hand, I’d say so.”

He laughs and grudgingly lets go. 

“Listen, you better not be a prat and wait another three days before taking me out again. I think the three years was long enough.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He leans in and plants a soft kiss on her cheek. “Good night.”

“Good night.” She says and watches him walk down the path to the street. He looks back at her a few times and smiles. She doesn’t close the door and go inside until he’s gone. 

Once out of sight, he places a hand over his heart and waits for it to calm down. He bites down on his lips to stop himself from smiling so much and looking like a madman.

During his prayers later that night, he thanks God more fervently than he has ever done before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Still having a major case of writer's block and needed a mental health break, so thank you for waiting! In the middle of my mental health break and trying to get better, but i managed to write this up. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's shakin' babes?! I'm back with another chapter after almost a month!! Sorry for the short break, I'v just been living life and breathing air and trying to fix my life lol
> 
> This chapter will be the end of what I'd like to call Act One and the next chapter will be the beginning of Act Two. Its taking me a weirdly long time deciding whether I'd continue it on this story or make an entirely new story for it, tell me what you guys think tho! Too indecisive huhu
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

The sun peaks through the gaps in the curtains enveloping her room in a dull yellow. Her phone blares an alarm at 9:18am after having snoozed it twice before. She whines a bit as she reaches over her night stand to turn it off and rubs the sleep from her eyes. She looks at her phone for the time and is greeted with a text.

**Sexy Priest: ** _ Good Morning _☀️

She smiles at this and types out a quick reply.

_ Morning! _

**Sexy Priest** ** _: _ ** _ Someone’s up late. _

_Maybe if someone didn’t keep me _

_ up last night worried about foxes _

_ breaking in, I would’ve had more _

_sleep_

**Sexy Priest:** ☹️

**Sexy Priest:** _Sorry abt that (not really)_

**Sexy Priest: ** _ Are we still on for later? _

_ Busy day in the cafe. Rain check? _

**Sexy Priest: ** _ All right. Good luck :* _

_ :* ?? Ew _

She reads his messages a few times with a smile on her face before she catches herself and forces herself to get up and shower.

It started with the texts. As it always does with this generation. True to his word, he didn’t wait 3 days before reaching out to her, he barely made it to 3 hours before he started a conversation that stretched on from the moment they woke up to when they went to bed. And even then, she was far too giddy to stop herself from replying a minute after he’d messaged. Falling asleep with her phone in her hand in more than one occasion. 

Their conversations stemmed deeper than the memes it all started with- though those were still a frequent subject in their conversations. They talked about anything and everything. About their days, random thoughts they would have, funny people or things they’d see. And when they weren’t texting, they were together having coffee, running errands, or just quietly together. 

The silence was one of his favorite parts of being with her. It was true peace. All his worries and anxieties wouldn’t be so loud whenever she was around. Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t dependent on her, and neither was she, obviously. But it was the simple matter of preferring to be in each other’s company rather than apart. 

He found himself finished with work early that day, and with their plans falling through, he also found himself with nothing else to do. He reaches for his phone and back reads their messages. He second guessed sending that kissy face emoticon despite choosing that over an emoji (because he felt that emojis were too serious and required more commitment whereas emoticons were usually jokes). But was it really a joke though? Would she see it that way?

He shakes his head. He didn’t need to overanalyze a fucking emoticon. 

Barely an hour had passed scrolling on his phone, and he was already bored. He had resorted to going through his social media timelines, but somehow always ended up in her profile. Laughing at the posts she shared, looking for her in all the pictures she was tagged in, scrolling as far back as 2013. 

He missed her. Grabbing unto any connection he could get with her through the screen. It was a familiar feeling, something he had gone through for years. Like he was missing a part of himself. And he couldn’t blame anyone but himself for what happened, for his choice. What could he do, blame God? God hadn’t chosen for him, He didn’t force him to leave her at the bus stop. No, he did that. 

_ “First time?” An older priest asks him. They were in the retreat facility, there was a 30 minute break before the next activity would start and gather them in the hall again. He walked outside for an escape and wound up sitting on a bench not far from the hall but far enough to be left alone. Or so he thought. _

_ “Y-yeah.” He says curtly and refuses a cigarette from him. _

_ “Thought so, you younger priests hardly go to this sort of thing.” He says with a cigarette between his lips. “Which begs the question: why are _ you _ here?” _

_ “I don’t actually know. Obligation, I guess?” _

_ His elder snorts in response. _

_ “Why is that so funny?” _

_ “That’s not really a good enough reason for anything, is it? If we all did things out of obligation, there would hardly be any free will, now would there. So, try it again. Why are you here?” _

_ He takes a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh. “I’m… lost, father. I’m confused and I don’t know what to do.” _

_ A lack of reply signals him to continue. _

_ “I’m caught between something I want and something I’ve worked for my whole life. I thought this was what I wanted, what I _ needed _ , and I’ve sacrificed so much to have this life. But now, I don’t know. I’m haunted by the past and by these fucking foxes-” The older priest raises an eyebrow but says nothing. “-and I don’t know if I made the right choice.” _

_ They were silent for a while, puffs of smoke dissipating with the wind between them. “Right or wrong, well that’s very subjective now, isn’t it? You only truly know if you’ve made the right choice once you’ve seen how it all turns out. Seeing the bigger picture. And even then, life isn’t all about the right choices. Sometimes the wrong ones lead to more beautiful and grander things than you could have ever dreamed of. It takes courage to be wrong, and strength to admit that.” the older priest says and puts out his cigarette before standing up. “You’re young, you still have time to make mistakes.” _

_ They head back to the lecture hall, his heart a little lighter and trying to muster up some courage before the week ends and he goes back home. _

A notification bell rings and a red bubble pops up on his social media app. He was tagged in a photo album from the retreat. He scrolls through the album and finds one of him and the elder priest. He looks at it fondly. 

Moments later, he gets a notification that someone liked it. It was _ her _. 

He’s left with a smile on his face as he grabs his coat and walks out the door. He finds himself in front of Hilary’s Cafe. She was right, the place was full even as the day wound down. It was sunset and amongst the bevy of people in the cafe chatting about and taking pictures, all he saw was her. Her bright smile, the waves in her hair that moved with her, her eyes that twinkled even after a tiring day. Under the golden sun, she was magnificent. He could never conceive of any universe where she could be a mistake. 

She spots him from inside and makes her way to him. He notices and manages to move his legs forward. They meet right in front of the door.

“Well, hello there stranger.” She says, wiping her hands at a rag thrown over he shoulder. 

“Hello.” He says with a smile too wide that his cheeks ached. 

“Do you want some tea?”

“That- that would be perfect.”

She smiles at him in reply and leads the way inside.

They walk through the door, and in the middle of a room full of people, he takes her hand in his, pulls her in, and places a quick peck on her lips. 

She looks up at him in surprise, he keeps his gaze on her steady and soft. They smile knowingly at one another. 

No one notices what had transpired between the two, and if anyone did, they don’t say anything. They continue on with their day; while the two, hands still interlocked, go to the kitchen to make that cup of tea.


	10. Chapter 10

They had been dating for a while.  _ Actually _ dating. Though they tried to avoid the local areas near the church, they would go out and call them dates. He had a fair amount of belongings in her flat, spending most of their time there, whereas she would scarcely ever be in the rectory in fear of Pam ever finding out. She had told a few close friends that she had a boyfriend, never divulging into the specifics. They (yes, they are a _they_ now.) even had lunch together with Claire to break the news. And though she met the announcement with surprise, she didn’t say much until he leaves the table to go the bathroom.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She says in hushed tones. “I can’t believe you’ve hid this from me!”

“Hey!” She says, trying to dodge her sister’s punches. “It’s not my fault you’ve been gone!”

“How’d it all start? Did you show up in the church drunk and in your knickers again?”

“Please! I would never do that again.” She rolls her eyes and takes a long sip of her wine. “I don’t know, honestly. It sort of just… Happened.”

“So, what's next? Is he leaving priesthood for you; collar, dress and all?”

“I-” she starts but is cut off by his return to the table.

“Sorry about that. What did I miss?” he asks with a clueless smile.

“I was just showing off some lovely pictures from our recent trip…” Claire lies effortlessly and shifts the topic from their conversation.

After lunch, Claire heads off back to her job, and the new couple decide to walk around the city centre and look through the shops before heading back.

Despite their conversation being cut short, she couldn't get Claire's words out of her mind. She  _ had _ thought of them, but everything was going so well that she just tried to ignore the small stuff, the scary stuff. Any doubts and fears were swept under the rug and locked away in the deepest depths of her consciousness.

It was a fresh chapter for them. They were just starting all over again, it was a honeymoon stage in every sense of the word. She didn’t want to muck it up with her fears and insecurities. She just wanted to enjoy the feeling, the now. She deserved that. She deserved to be happy. 

“Is something wrong, love?” he quips beside her.

She looks back at him and he’s beaming. He’s wearing the blue jumper he had worn when they were first hanging out years ago. He looks completely and utterly at peace, as if walking through the busy high street was his own idea of heaven. She couldn’t take that away from him. 

“No, of course not.” She replies, shaking her head. 

In hindsight, things could have gone very differently if she had just told him the truth. 

\---

Understandably, they spent most of their nights in her place. Though there really was something that made sneaking around the church kind of sexy, the risk was too great for them to repeat it a third time. 

They had agreed to meet for dinner after he was done with confirmation practice in the church. Rather than going out for dinner, she wanted to surprise him by cooking-- something she had never bothered to do in past relationships. Partly because she never wanted to, but also because her partners had always just cooked or they'd go out to eat. But this time it was different. She wanted to do something special just because she wanted to. Not because he asked or expected it, God knows he would’ve been just as happy with stale bread, but it was a gesture she wanted to make. 

“What’s all this?” He says, entering the kitchen in his running clothes (his cover up for whenever he would be out at night).

“Just dinner.” She says nonchalantly, stirring the sauce in the pot. 

“You made dinner?”

She shrugs but smiles when she sees how much his face lights up. “Yeah, I thought it would be a nice change of pace from the usual take away.”

He goes over to her and wraps his arms around her and gives her a soft kiss on the cheek. “God, you’re amazing.”   


“Are you talking to Him or are you talking to me?”

He chuckles against her neck and proceeds to kiss her on that spot. He trails his kisses on her neck up to her ear where he playfully nibbles on her earlobe. She can’t help but let out a soft moan. He takes this as a signal to continue. 

“I’m cooking!” She complains but laughs. “Stop distracting me and go set the table before I burn this flat to the grounf!”

He plants one more kiss on her neck before he goes to grab some plates. 

They sit down to supper after she’s done cooking. He says grace, and though she’s still an atheist, she remains quiet on her seat until he’s done. 

They have their supper, with idle chatter about their respective days, and he offers to do the dishes while she puts the kettle on for tea. They settle down on her couch to watch something on Netflix, she welcomes him inside her warm knit blanket as he brings over their mugs. They put on a documentary but both fall asleep within half an hour. 

She wakes up the next morning on her bed, alone. 

Groggy, she gets up to make coffee and goes through her phone while waiting. She reads a text from him. He had sent it at one in the morning.

**Sexy Priest** ** _: _ ** _ Had to leave. Didn’t want Pam to get any ideas. _

She looks up from her phone and around her apartment, with just the sound of coffee brewing next to her, she realizes how empty it feels. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! Happy new decade! I know it's been a while but I do hope that there are people out there who come back to Fleabag now and then. Its made me realize so many things at a time i was lost and I'm grateful for the impact of Phoebe Waller Bridge. I don't think i could ever get sick of it, truth be told. Even if i take ages to post, it's still something incredibly dear and close to my heart
> 
> Anyhoo, as always, hope you enjoy!


	11. Chapter 11

The seasons were changing and, if it were even possible, the weather was getting colder than it already was. Gone were the days of what had been called “Hot Girl Summer” to be replaced by the season of pumpkin spiced lattes. And though she wasn’t a huge fan of the drink,  _ he _ was. 

“Hmmmm.” He murmured into his cup as he was set to take his first sip. They were outside a busy cafe in central London, forcibly turned away a seat inside by some hipsters writing lyrics for their pop indie band. On any other day, she would have told them off and given them a piece of her mind, but after appeasing her by wrapping his scarf around her, he got her to calm down.

He looked in utter bliss by the drink that warmed him up, and upon catching her stare at him, he offered her a sip. “D’you like to try some?” 

She shook her head, trying to stop herself from laughing at the cream mustache he had given himself. She slowly brought out her phone and discreetly tried to take a picture of him, but hadn’t realized that the sound was on. With an audible click, his attention went back to her.

“What was that?” he looks up from his drink.

“What was what?” She tries to play dumb.

“That sound…” He squints at her, “It almost sounded like a phone camera.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She takes a long sip of her coffee. 

They continue to walk, though he slows down, and she knew exactly what this meant. 

She starts running. At a speed that wouldn’t spill her coffee, which to say was relatively slow. And he chases after her. 

There they were, running through the busy streets of London laughing like children whilst he tries to take her phone from her. 

“Noooo!” She laughs, out of breath, as he finally catches her, wrapping his arms around her torso. 

He easily snatches the phone from her hands and looks for the picture she took. He bursts out in laughter when he sees it and wipes his upper lip. “Is it still there?”

“Wait, let me get a good look at you.” She twists around, his arm still around her waist, keeping her close. She wipes stray cream that he missed. “There.”

“Are you sure?” He squints at her again disbelievingly and takes her hand in his. 

“Yes! Trust me.” She laughs and places a quick peck on his lips.

They continue walking while sipping on their drinks. They head to an open air market filled with people selling local crafts, various plants, and other random wares. It was quite crowded, so they kept their lands locked as to not get separated. Being the more aggressive type, she walked ahead to make a path for them.

“Father?” She hears a voice say seconds before she feels his grip slacken and his hand pulls away completely.

“Oh, hello Susan.” She hears him say.

“That’s so funny, I had just told Robert here that I thought it was you but he wouldn’t believe me.” Susan replies, Robert grunts next to her. “We were just doin’ a wee bit o’ shopping. Are you here with anyone?”

She looks back at him and tries to go back, but the tide of people pushes her forward and she struggles to reach him. 

“No.” She hears him say. “I’m not here with anyone, totally alone. Just wanted to get some coffee and have a look around.”

She stops trying to go against the current of shoppers and lets them drag her to the very end of the market. She finds a bench to sit on and watches the loads of people around her; families, friends, kids, couples, having a good time. And even if they weren’t, they were together, at the very least. 

She takes a sip from her coffee and grimaces. “Huh, cold.” She says to herself. 

He exits the market nearly an hour later, looking extremely apologetic. 

“I’m so sorry, a parishioner saw me and roped me into out of hours counseling with her husband.” He explains, obviously sincere in his apology.

“No worries.” She says, standing up. “I get it.”

“Again, I really am so sorry for-”

She cuts him off. “It’s in the past. Should we maybe get out of here then?”

He nods his head slowly and they walk away from the market. She tosses her cup in the nearest bin and mindfully keeps her hands in her coat pockets the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Hope you're all staying safe inside your homes whilst this pandemic ensues! 
> 
> Wanted to post a new chapter as motivation to get through this difficult time in one piece. Currently filled with guilt because society (and capitalism) has set such an emphasis on the need to be productive that it starts to take over people's lives and creates a disassociation with yourself when there is no work to be done. (Read Marx's Alienated Labor to know more abt this philosophy hahaha) Still trying to stop myself from basing my worth on my productivity, a difficult feat after more than 22 years of this being ingrained in my identity, but we shall persevere! 
> 
> I hope you guys are doing well and please please don't hoard on supplies if not totally necessary, hospitals and medical professionals may be in need of these supplies too and we don't know how long this pandemic will last. Stay safe and let's all do what we can to help!


	12. Chapter 12

“Something’s wrong. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know there’s something wrong.” She was lying down on an overstuffed pastel colored couch, her head resting on an arm rest while her legs spilled over the other end. 

Her psychiatrist continued scribbling on her notebook, not bothering to look up. “And what makes you say that?”

“Everything’s going too well. I’ve been sleeping well, even getting dreams now. My skin has just been weirdly amazing, not a spot in weeks. And everyone’s been sooo nice to me. Something has to be going wrong.”

“Does it?” 

“Yes! It’s weird, this sort of thing doesn't happen to someone like me.”

“‘ _ Someone like you’ _ ?”

“You know, a terrible fucked up person. Someone who’s broken beyond repair.”

“And what makes you say that you’re that kind of person?”

She scoffs. “Come on, doctor, you know everything. All of my mistakes, everything I’ve done in the past.”

“Precisely.” She closes her notebook audibly and sets it aside. “Everything you’ve done, all your regrets and misjudgements, they’re in the past.” 

She sits up from her position and looks at the older woman in front of her. 

“Why did you come here? And don’t tell me it’s because your father gave you a voucher, because we both know you’ve come here repeatedly for the past three years by your own volition.” She pauses and sits back on her chair, intertwining her fingers together. “Yes, you’ve done some questionable things in the past, by your own admission, but people who are unaware that they’ve done something wrong don’t go to therapy. They live their life in ignorant bliss and continue to make the same mistakes over and over again. They don’t sit on  _ that _ seat and talk to me if they thought they weren’t beyond repair. So let’s have another go at it, shall we?”

She stays quiet. The words spoken hang in the room and she was suffocated by it. She bites at her lower lip and takes a deep breath. “I’m scared.”

“Mmhmm.” She picks up her notebook and continues scribbling.

“Everything’s going so well,  _ too _ well, that I’m waiting for the next mistake that’s going to ruin everything. How  _ I’m _ going to ruin everything. He’s been so great and this is what I thought I wanted. A boring, mundane, safe, repetitive life. But there are moments… That I catch myself waiting for him to leave again. Waiting for him to realize that I’m not worth it and he can just easily turn his back and return to his other life.”

“Have you spoken to him about this?”

“How can I? I don’t want him to know how mental I am.” She pauses pensively. “I mean, that’s what I pay these sessions for, right? So you can listen to me drone on about my problems and then you fix them.”

“Yes, not exactly the dictionary definition, but I am here to help you. But I can only do so much until it falls on you to help yourself.”

She doesn’t respond and suddenly has a great interest on the carpet patterns underneath her.

“There is a solution to your predicament, you know.”

“Thank God, I thought you were about to make me handle this on my own. Pleaaase tell me how to fix this.” She sits up and looks at her therapist straight in the eyes for the first time that session. 

“I’d love to, but I’m not the one dating you.” She closes her notebook and the corners of her mouth upturn ever so slightly. “I’ll see you at the same time next week.”

\---

There are good days, which she was having more of late thanks to a certain parish priest, but there are bad days too. Days when she had to force herself out of bed when she felt her mattress was the only place she belonged in. When her temper was short and just hearing someone breathe next to her would make her want to rip their throat out. And days when she just felt her heart heavy. Too heavy to bare that she would hide herself from the rest of the world. She had to protect her heart somehow and this was the only way she knew how.

The latter, luckily, were short and far in between. But when those days came, they hit her hard. She goes off the grid. Not answering her phone, locking herself up in her flat, refusing to meet anyone until she decides to reemerge a few days later. No one ever put too much thought over it, she was never the best in replying to messages or calls. None of her past partners even knew about these days. She’d pass it off as a cold or being busy and they would leave her alone. 

She never admitted it, and she never would, but there were times she allowed herself to hope that someone, anyone, would see past her pretense and just  _ know _ . Know the right words to say, know the right time to be there, know exactly what she needed and when she needed it. Harry was close once, but he had band practice that day and brushed the thought away. 

This was exactly how she played it with him, sending an obscure text about being sick and ignoring her phone while she consumed bad reality TV and a pint of mint chip ice cream. 

“No! Don’t do it Rose! You can do so much better!!” She yells at her laptop screen, waving a spoonful of ice cream around.

She was in her worst sweatpants and an old shirt that was comprised of more holes than actual fabric. Bundled up in a makeshift fort of pillows and blankets, she had no intention of leaving it anytime soon. She felt warm, and more importantly, she felt safe. She didn’t have to worry about the outside world, all her responsibilities postponed for the time being. It was just her, some ice cream and crisps, and a television marathon that she had to worry about and nothing else, for now, that is. 

The day droned on, hardly bothering to check for the time, the sun set to be replaced by dark night without her notice. It was the gross in between right before spring, when there would be gentle showers that turned the snow into a sopping mess. She was a little more than glad to be playing hooky that day. 

A boiling kettle whistling called for her attention and made her emerge from her blanket cocoon and out into her cold kitchen. She was pouring herself a cup of tea when there was a shuffling from her door.

“Hello?” A voice calls out. 

She stops in her tracks, as if her lack of movement would make her disappear in that instant.

“I hope it’s all right that I’ve let myself in with the spare key.” He shouts, footsteps growing closer towards her. 

She didn’t know what to do, never having had this happen before, her first instinct was to run. Her mind going through every possible escape route. 

“I got your text about being ill so I thought I’d bring over some soup right after service today.”

It was too late, he was right in front of her, smiling and holding up a plastic container.

Her first instinct to run was quickly replaced with anger in a blink of an eye. “What are you doing here?” She demands.

“I brought soup!” 

“I didn’t ask you to do that, I told you I didn’t want to see you.” 

“You’d told me you were sick so I-”

“And you didn’t stop to think that maybe that meant that I wanted to be alone?”

“Wait, what the… what the fuck is going on-”

“Yeah, why the fuck didn’t you just leave me alone?” She spat his words back at him.

“I…” He starts but couldn’t continue.

“Just go.” She says, her voice shaking. “Leave me alone. Just Leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just rewatched the whole series again and I gotta say, even after all this time it stills gets to me so hard.   
Here's a lil anxiety driven chapter (written while i was in the midst of an attack) so just a little trigger warning for those who can relate!
> 
> This pandemic hasn't made life any easier and has certainly messed up a lot of plans for everyone, but nonetheless i hope you are all doing good and know that you're not alone! Please stay safe and take care of yourselves!
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)


	13. Chapter 13

She runs to her bedroom and slams the door behind her. She knew she was being unkind, but she was caught off guard. She wasn’t ready to see anyone, let alone  _ him _ . With every venom laced word she let out, she knew that she was ruining  **them** . The relationship she so wanted to protect. 

The faint sound of his footsteps heading for the door resonate in her room. Her heart drops when she hears the door close. She buries her face in her hands, regret finally setting in.

She breathes slowly to stop herself from hyperventilating and triggering a panic attack. 

“Fuck!” She yells before she throws herself back into her bed. She feels worse than ever before. 

“I second the sentiment.” She hears a voice from the other side of the door.

“Wha-”

“Now, before you go and get mad at me again, I’m just warming up your soup and then I’ll be on my way.”

She crawls out of the bed and leans with her back against the door. 

“Okay.” she manages to murmur.

There was silence between them, and it pierced her heart thinking that this was going to be her last moments with him.

“So, have you calmed down yet or is it safer to have this door between us?” He says.

She laughs half heartedly.

“What’s wrong, my darling?” He says delicately. “You can tell me anything.”

She shakes her head.

“Think of this door as a makeshift confessional. Remember, like what I taught you?”

“I don’t remember much confessions the last time, more sins had been made for sure.”

He chuckles breathily, “Well, go on, then.”

A pause.

Silence.

“I’ve mucked it all up haven’t I?” She says softly. “I knew I would,  _ eventually _ , I just didn’t think I’d do it so soon.”

“You haven’t done anything of the sort.”

“I got mad at you, for being so considerate and overall a great guy and  _ bringing me soup _ .”

“I have to ask, is it because you don’t like chicken noodle?”

She laughs. “It’s my favorite.”

He lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank God, I didn’t know  _ what _ I’d do if you didn’t like chicken noodle soup.” He pauses, and continues, “So, why  _ did _ you get so angry?”

She chews on her lower lip. “I- I’ve been seeing my psychiatrist again.”

He stays silent and she takes this as a sign to continue talking.

“I just- there are days when… When I don’t feel strong enough for the world. It’s terrifying out there, and I have to steel myself to not get hurt. But ever since you came along, well, I’ve just been waiting for the other shoe to drop. For my next big fuck up that’ll make you run off again.

“I’m not a great person, I don’t even know if I’m a good one. All I know is that I’m broken. I’m damaged goods and I don’t know if I’m enough. Not just for you, but even for me.”

She hugs her knees, her eyes tightly closed. The door creaks open behind her and she’s suddenly enveloped in warmth and the smell of rain and laundry.

They stay silent, the warmth between them the only thing keeping the chill away in the cold apartment.

“I might need something to believe in really soon because I feel myself breaking again. The brokenness is still there, and I know it always will be, but there are days when that’s the only thing I can feel… I don't know what to do.” she mutters. 

They pause for a beat before he says, “Pray.”

“What?”

“Pray. It doesn’t have to be to God, preferably not Satan though, but try praying.”

“Uh---”

“Think of prayer as a way of letting go. Catholics pray to God to release their fears; fears of death, of hell, of loss. We lift these fears to God because we realize that there are things that we can’t and don’t want to handle.”

She sniffles a bit, “Isn’t that a bit like a scapegoat then?”

He chuckles, “I like to think of it as a rock to rest on when the weight of the world has tired you out. It’s like God’s telling you ‘hey, you look exhausted, let me help with that load on your shoulders.’”

“And you believe that?”

“It’s far better than believing in nothing, trust me, I know. I’ve seen what both sides has to offer. At least this one has nice clothes.”

She pauses. “But what if the Church, Catholicism or religion, all of it, is wrong?”

“It could be,” He nods, “But it could also be right. I’d like to believe there’s truth to every religion, there is no one absolute _truth_ , there’s just belief and faith and hope. And I choose to believe in this one. Because God is love. That’s all he ever is and all He ever really wanted.”

“How are you so sure?”

“I’m not. Not sure about anything, really, I just choose to believe that things will be okay.”

She remains reflective. The future is a funny and terrifying thing. No one could tell her for certain that the future would be all right, all she had was the man that she loved, in front of her, holding her close, and telling her that they would be. But this was also the same man that left her on a bus stop years ago. 

_ What if history repeats itself? _   


She didn’t know if she could handle all of that again. 

“I’m scared.” She finally lets out barely audible, tears forming on the corner of her eyes.

“I am, too.” He says taking her hands in his, “But you don’t have to be scared alone, my love, I’m here, and truth be told, I am scared shitless.”

She stifles out a laugh.

“I didn’t just come here because of the soup, though you really should try some.” He caresses her face and lifts her chin up to look into her eyes. “Something sounded off when I’d read your message. I knew I had to see you. Whatever it is, whether you want to tell me or not, I’ll be here.”

She closes her eyes and rests on his shoulder. It was better than any blanket fort she could make. She felt utterly and completely safe.

He plants a kiss on her forehead. “So, is that a yes on the soup?”

“Yes. Let’s go get some soup.” They get up from the floor and head to the kitchen.

Not all of her fears or doubts were lifted that day, she felt her heart lighter than it had been in a long time. And though she knew that they were far from the perfect couple, seeing him in her apartment, happily talking about chicken noodle soup and how proud he was that he had tried to make it himself before Pam intervened and took over the operation before he hurt himself, was more than enough for her at that moment. It was more than she had ever let herself hope for. And if she could be totally honest, as selfish as it was, that made her hope for even more. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Hope you are all doing well despite the continuous shit storm that is 2020. I dont know about you guys, but I'm lowkey sick of this year and just really hoping that 2021 will be better. Anyway, I hope that this new chapter can afford you guys a lil break from the chaos of the outside world and allow you to breathe a bit!
> 
> I'd also like to thank everyone who comments, bookmarks, gives kudos or even just reads and enjoys this story! I'm sorry i don't reply to comments (bec i am a v socially awkward bean) but please know that i appreciate and treasure every single one and you guys honestly keep me going haha
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy!

“HELLO, hello can you hear me?” Claire says, the picture frozen through the screen.

“Jesus, Claire, not so loud! You’re yelling at a frequency that dogs can hear.” She says, adjusting her laptop for a more flattering angle of herself. 

“The fucking iPad’s on the fritz, I can hardly understand a word you’re saying.”

“What’s happened to it?”

“The baby’s just spilled some juice while watching videos. Some coco watermelon shit all babies seem to be obsessed with. I’m having it repaired later this week. But never mind that! What’s this news you wanted to tell me.”

She chewed on her bottom lip a bit before saying, “I think I love him.”

“ _ That’s _ the important thing you wanted to tell me?” Claire physically restrains herself from rolling her eyes.

“Hey, this is a big deal! I haven’t told you I loved someone since Thomas McLane when I was in upper sixth.”

“Never mind that he was a drug dealer  _ and _ an addict.”

“An  _ alleged _ drug dealer. He told me he was just holding onto those for a friend. Besides, he always brought me to the best gigs back then.”

“Well, I’m happy you didn’t end up with that McLane fella and got yourself a priest instead.” Claire pokes at her. “How  _ has _ it been between you two? What’d he say when you told him?”

“Uh, well, I haven’t really said it in so many words… In no words to be precise.”

“You haven’t told him you loved him? Christ, you’ve been going out for nearly a year now!”

“Claire, volume!” She presses her palms to her ears. “I’ve just been so mental lately, I just need a bit more time for him to forget that then I will. And I don’t know if you can recall, but last time I told him it didn’t go so well on my end.”

“I seem to recall you siccing a wild animal at him.”

“I did nothing of the sort! I just pointed out to the fox his general direction.” 

“Uh huh.”

“And he did break my heart in a bus stop, so I think it was only fair that he had to deal with a wee fox problem on his way back to God.”

“Claire, I’ve packed the diaper bag when do you-“ Klare enters the frame holding a swaddled baby. “Oh, hello! I didn’t know you were on a video call. I don’t mean to interrupt your sisterly talks. I’ll wait in the other room.”

“Oh, no bother Klare, how’ve you been?”

“Yah, excellent! She’s starting to sleep through the night so now we get 4 hours of sleepy time instead of the usual 3.” He says with a big smile. “And you?”

“Just peachy.”

“Claire tells me you’re dating someone. That’s awesome, where did you meet?”

“I think you’ve met him actually. He was the priest that officiated your daughter’s baptism.”

“Ah! The, what you call,  _ sexy _ priest, yes?”

“Bingo.”

“Haha, such a fun game.”

“Darling, why don’t you check on her nappy before we head out?” Claire says, cutting the conversation short. She knew that her husband could drone on the whole day if left to his own devices. 

“Right, yes. Nice to see you well! We see you next month when we go visit, yeah?”

“Of course, always a treat to see you Klare.” 

He saunters off screen, cooing at his baby.

“It’s the first day in weeks that the sun has been out and we’re taking the baby to the park to get some vitamin D, the doctor said it’d be good for her.” Claire says, starting to pack up her things into a purse. 

“Isn’t the whole point of your move so that you didn’t have to deal with sunlight?”

“We’re not vampires, you know.”

“Well, enjoy the park. Say hello to Bella and Edward for me if you see them there.”

“Piss off and tell your priest you love him already.” Claire says as a final note before ending the call.

The word echoed in her ears. 

_ Love _ .

It felt so weighted. So certain. Like a ‘ _ the end _ ’ line when a movie is through. It felt as if after any profession of love, it was only logical to have the  _ happily ever after _ . But that didn’t work out so well last time. It wasn’t that simple. Life wasn’t a fairy tale.

Claire was living her  _ happily ever after _ . She was whisked away by a Norwegian viking and found her true love and happiness. She had defeated the sinister villain - also known as “Martin”- and got the ending she deserved. 

But  _ her _ on the other hand? 

Her story seemed more like a tragedy than anything else. A tragedy stricken with twists and turns every step of the way. One filled with star crossed lovers, death, heartache,  _ maybe _ a dash of redemption, and a whole lot of uncertainty. 

She felt her phone vibrate. It was a message.

** _Sexy Priest_ **

_ Will be a bit late tonight darling. Don't watch the rest of Indian Matchmaking while I’m picking up the takeaway _ ! 

She smiled to herself, feeling giddy. 

Funny how a simple message could make her feel so much. She thought back at where they had started, where they had gone, and where they currently were. So much had happened, so much had changed. Their story wasn’t one for the faint of heart. It was one with many trials and tribulations, many setbacks and mistakes, a lot of regrets. But nevertheless, at the very base of it all, their story was filled with love. This is a love story, after all. 

She typed out a quick message and sent it absolute certainty. 

_ All right. Get here asap, I have something I want to tell you. _

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Back again with a multi chapter fic. Sorry I'm absolute shit with summaries lol
> 
> I'm hoping to explore the possibility of a slow burn relationship. On how they just develop naturally with time. If what they feel really does persevere through time and the difficulties they could face. I still love the canon ending and all tho, just trying something new haha
> 
> Really hope the pacing won't be too slow, not really sure how many chapters it will be either, but I'm kind of just seeing where this takes me!


End file.
